Love Like This
by LineSofie
Summary: Mary and Francis have been married for a year. Will their love for each other be enough, or will the struggles they face cause a rift between them? Follows 1x13 "The Consummation".
1. Chapter One

Hey guys :D So this story was written after I watched "The Consummation" AKA the episode where every Frary fan threw their hands in the air and smiled like the biggest idiot on earth… or was that just me? No one else? Oh… okay…

Anyways, this story, as I said, was written after the wedding. I got really, really tired, like REALLY tired, of Nosty´s (I´m seriously in love with that nickname) stupid Prophesy and all the fan-hitting shit that came along with it. I decided…wait, no, my BRAIN decided to start imagining if Nosty had never seen the full Prophesy and we´d been left with the image of Mary and Francis happily married with Anne and James begging for their father´s attention. *sigh* A girl can dream, right?

This story is basically one huge "what-if" from a Frary fan in denial…

*Please keep in mind that I wrote the first 8 chapters of this before 1x14 aired so I might stray quite a lot from the canon plot on the show. I might try to incorporate a few things later on though...

* * *

**Chapter One:**

* * *

Her relationship with her mother had been strained ever since the wedding. Mary knew, of course, that what her mother did was child´s play compared to the things that Catherine had done to her, but it seemed to get under her skin in another way. Catherine had been clear in her dislike of Mary from the moment she arrived at court.

Her mother, however, was a different story. Mary barely knew her mother. Sure, she had lived with her for the first six years of her life and she remembered the distinct smell of her perfume, but that was it. She knew nothing of the woman who had brought her into the world. Somehow, she had imagined that her reunion with her mother would be more joyful than it turned out to be. She had imagined her mother to be kind and motherly, like Catherine was to Francis and her other children. It hadn´t even taken the woman five minutes to lie to Mary and it got to her in a way that she never thought was possible.

When she had told her mother in anger that she wanted her to leave France and disappear from her sight, it wasn´t because of the false news that she had made the messenger bring. Mary couldn´t care less about that. It did not matter in the end. What mattered to her was that her mother had gone behind her back. She hadn´t turned out to be the mother that Mary had dreamed of since she last saw her at age eleven at the convent.

….

It was not without a bitter taste in her mouth that she read the latest letter from her mother with updates from Scotland. Her mother was still pretending to be the perfect mother, the letter reeking of disgusting sweetness that made Mary crinkle her nose. A year earlier, letters like these would have made her smile and clutch the slightly wrinkled paper closer to her chest in an attempt to be closer to her mother. Now she was reading it more out of duty than of anything else.

Quickly getting past the usual "I hope you and Francis are well", Marie de Guise got to the point of her letter. She wanted to know how the marriage was. She wanted to know when they could expect a much needed heir from her. Mary rolled her eyes as she scanned over the words. Her mother was not the first person to point out to her that the future of two kingdoms was relying on her to produce an heir. The councilmen had made remarks about it as well – not to her personally, but to Francis.

She knew that her abilities in the marital bed were the talk of the castle – among the nobles and among the servants. It had been a year and it wasn´t a secret that she and Francis shared a bedroom, so why hadn´t they heard news of an impending baby from the royal couple?

Mary had given it a lot of thought too. She couldn´t go anywhere without somebody reminding her in a direct or indirect way that they were expecting joyful news from her. Oddly, she found herself feeling sorry for Catherine. Her mother in law had gone through ten years of what she had only had to endure for a year.

She couldn´t talk to Francis about it. He never asked her if she was pregnant and he would never demand anything of her that she didn´t want to do. He was the perfect man, really, and that was the exact reason why she couldn´t tell him of her worries. He would tell her that it didn´t matter to him if she gave him a child right away. He would reassure her that it would happen eventually and that he would happily wait until then.

Still, she knew too well that she needed to do something – anything. Yes, it had only been a year, but Catherine and Henry hadn´t been married for long either before the issue of children caused a rift between them. Not to mention the history that Mary and Francis had. It had only been months since they had gotten back to some sort of normality after everything that had happened with Bash and Lola.

…

_Francis had been angry of course. He had every right to be. He hadn´t shown those emotions before the wedding because he would rather be married to her than push her away when he had finally gotten her back. _

_The honeymoon had been blissful as well. They barely talked but they still showed each other repeatedly how much they loved each other. It wasn´t until they returned from the honeymoon that things really went off track. They would fight and they would say things they didn´t mean in the heat of anger. They would always return to each other, though. They would always forgive each other. It was a wonder really, how Mary hadn´t gotten pregnant then. _

_That was before Mary had discovered the truth of what had happened between Francis and Lola. She had been heartbroken and angry and upset. She had thrown things at him and she had cried herself to sleep more nights than she could count. She knew that she couldn´t really blame Francis for sleeping with another girl. They hadn't been engaged anymore and he had the freedom to do what he pleased. Still, did that girl have to be Lola? Did it have to be her friend and lady-in-waiting who knew how much she still loved Francis? _

_Lola had confessed to her, after a bad bout of morning sickness, that she was pregnant. It had only been a few days since Mary had returned from her honeymoon. Though Mary didn´t know the father; she wasn´t even aware that Lola had been seeing anyone, she still wanted to help her friend. She tried to reassure her friend that a baby born out of wedlock wasn´t the end of the world. Lola had only cried in response. How could she tell her queen that the child she was carrying was that of _her_ husband? _

_Lola had gone out in secret and met with a physician in town. She had been in disguise so no one would be able to recognize her. The physician told her that he could terminate the pregnancy so her reputation wouldn´t be ruined. Lola, the poor girl, had been desperate enough to agree. She had kept it a secret. She told Mary that she had lost the baby. No one would ever know. _

_That was until her health started to drastically deteriorate. She had collapsed the following day while helping Mary dress for the day. Mary hadn´t known what to do. She had called for Nostradamus who came rushing to help. He hadn´t waited for the guards to move her as he scooped her from the floor and walked with hastened steps toward the infirmary with Mary tailing not far behind. She had sent a servant to tell Francis that she wouldn´t be able to meet with him as planned that afternoon. _

_She had put two and two together when Francis had come rushing to see what was wrong. It hadn´t been hard to guess from the pained expression on his face when Nostradamus told him that she had tried to terminate the pregnancy, that he was the father. She didn´t want to believe it. She went the rest of the day trying to convince herself that what she had seen wasn´t what she thought it was. _

_She couldn´t take it anymore when Francis came into their shared chambers that night. She hadn´t looked at him. She focused everything she had on keeping her breathing steady and trying to keep herself calm. _

"_Was it your child?" she asked bluntly. She hadn´t sugarcoated it. She wanted to know the truth. She couldn´t take any more lies. _

_Francis had kept quiet and she was thankful that she wasn´t looking at his face. She got up from her chair and grabbed her dress rope. _

"_I´ll be sleeping in my old chambers tonight." _

_She hadn´t looked at him and she had stayed in her chambers the following day, claiming to be feeling too unwell to attend any meetings or any of the meals. All food was brought to her by servants. _


	2. Chapter Two

Hey guys :) I decided to give you the next chapter of the story even though I originally wasn´t going to do it before tomorrow afternoon sometime (Danish time - would be Friday morning in USA)...

I´m in the middle of a huge assignment that is due tomorrow at noon but I really needed a break so i decided to give you this. Yeah, I know, I´m generous like that :D I´m not really sure how I feel about this chapter though...It´s not my favorite...but whatever...

Anyways, I could really use thoughts and finger-crossing and prayers and whatever else you can give me...this assignment is my key to my final year in gymnasium (Danish version of college I guess) and I can´t move up if I don´t hand this in! So please, whatever you can give me of positive thoughts, I would appreciate it :)

Oh, and before I forget, thank you SO, SO much for the reviews - you are simply the best! :D

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Mary, back in her chambers with the letter from her mother in hand, shuddered at the thought. Lola hadn´t made it. She succumbed to an infection only two days later. Mary had gone to see her one last time before she died. She hadn´t told Lola that she already knew the truth when the girl had confessed that Francis was the father. She hadn´t replied when Lola had begged for forgiveness. She had only sat there in tears, holding the hand of her dying friend.

She had been sleeping in her chambers when a servant told her that Lola was dead. She felt numb. Her emotions were one giant mess that she didn´t know how to sort through. She was furious; at Francis _and_ at Lola. Lola was her friend. No matter how many times she tried to deny it to herself, she was going to miss her. Of course she was. The girl had made a mistake and paid the price for it.

It was for this reason, that when Francis had been banging on her doors that night, begging her to let him in, she had ignored him until he quieted. She couldn´t face him. She was not strong enough to keep her distance from him. She would have broken down and sobbed into his arms. She could not let herself do that; not that easily.

…

That went on for days. Mary was ignoring him. Eventually, she had to attend meals and meetings, but she would be distant toward Francis. She would disregard his words when he whispered apologies in her ear with a fake smile at the guests around her. She would keep her eyes locked on his shoulder when they danced and she would leave the feast early every time. For a short time, some would gossip that the reason for her odd behavior was because she was pregnant, but they were proved wrong when no announcement was made.

A part of her knew that she was being immature. A part of her was telling, or rather, yelling at her to get to her senses and talk to her husband.

…

_She had gone back to her chambers. She had just dismissed Kenna and Greer when Francis burst into her room. She didn´t bother covering her nightdress as she heard the guard protest. The middle-aged guard looked down when he stuttered his sincere apologies. She dismissed him swiftly and he closed the door, leaving the pair alone. She tried to keep her hands and eyes occupied on folding her garments – anything to find an excuse not to meet Francis´ eyes. _

_Both had been silent for a while, only the sound of their breathing, his heavier than hers, broke the stillness. _

"_Mary, please," he had pleaded. _

_She looked up at the sound of his cracked voice and instantaneously regretted it. His eyes were bloodshot; the skin around them purple and his blonde locks were disheveled. She tried to suppress the need to hold him close and wipe the stray tears from his cheeks. She had to keep her distance. _

"_Talk to me, Mary!" he cried, when her eyes diverted from his yet again. _

_She didn´t look up. She felt the strong tug when his hands locked around her wrist. It wasn't enough to hurt her, but it was enough to make her drop the clothes in her hands. She finally looked at him, tears clouding her eyes. _

"_Why her?" she asked, her voice hoarse. _

_He was silent for only a few seconds, but it felt longer to her. _

"_She made me feel normal. She knew how I felt. She didn´t mock me for feeling that way. She didn´t try to decide anything for me…" he regretted his words as soon as they left his lips._

_She took a step away from him. A sob escaped her before she ordered him to leave her alone. _

"_I´m sorry…I shouldn´t have said that…" He tried to get closer to her, but she shook her head violently and took another step back, colliding with the chair in front of her mirror. _

"_Leave, Francis, please…" she cried. "Just leave me alone…"_

"_No! I won´t leave you! I will never leave you!" His voice was raised but not in anger. _

_He took two long strides toward her and took her hands in his. _

"_Don´t you get it? I love you and only you. I won´t leave until I know that you don´t hate me and…" He voice had lowered significantly as he spoke, but he was cut off. _

"_I don´t hate you," she mumbled quietly. _

_If he hadn´t been so close, he probably wouldn't have heard it. _

"_Then please, just listen to me. I only did it because I thought that I would never see you again. Lola tried to argue that it wasn´t right and I should have listened. I should have known that it would upset you and I´m sorry. I was angry at you and my brother and I wanted to forget you…I…" He couldn´t find words. _

_He needed her back in his arms. He needed to feel her skin against his. He needed to feel her body curled up against his own as he woke up. He needed to hear her say that she loved him. He needed his wife. _

_She leaned forward and let the sobs shake her body as she cried into his chest. He just held her close and placed kisses in her hair. After a moment he could pull back enough to guide her to the bed. He made her lie down before going around to the other side. He climbed in and hugged her body from behind as she lied quietly weeping. _

…

It had been a tough few months since then. They had both tried to forget that it ever happened. It helped that no one would dare comment on their obviously improved relationship. No one would dare to say anything to anger either of them. As far as anyone knew, the marriage was a happy one. They had moments of happiness and they both loved each other more than life itself, but that didn´t mean that they didn´t have moments where they wanted to scream at each other.


	3. Chapter Three

Hey guys :) Here is the third chapter. I have been asked about updates on the story and while I´ll try to upload as much as I can, it probably won´t be more than twice a week. I have eight chapters written but I don´t want to give you them all at once only to leave you waiting for weeks for another one... My life is pretty busy right now so I haven´t really had any time to write anything (I did write like two pages yesterday only to realize that it wouldn´t work with the story at all :( ...) So I´m basically back to square one...

Anyways, I´m on Spring Break right now and I´ll hopefully get something written now :D

And lastly, please, please, please review :D I´m really grateful for the 265 people who viewed chapter two, but I only got one review (thanks A-shiningstar) and I was actually a bit disappointed to say the least... I got 9 reviews on chapter one only to get just one on the second chapter... I really want to know what you think...

On a more happier note, I can now say that Blame and Sacrifice with a total of 27.762 words has more views than actual words in it! 27.842 views! That´s crazy! THANK YOU!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Putting the letter down on the desk in front of her, she got up. She called for a servant to help her dress as Greer and Kenna had been given a day off. When she was dressed in her light blue dress, one that she knew Francis would like, she went to find him.

As King Consort of Scotland, he had several meetings almost daily about the Scottish politics. Mary had never gone to one of them before, but she had been curious. It wasn´t as if the politics of it interested her particularly, but she wanted to know what was happening in the country where she was queen. Francis would keep her informed, as would her mother, but she would never get the exact details of the "when" and "why" of the different situations.

She felt the eyes of all the nobles on her, including Francis´, as she entered the throne room. She gave her warmest smile as she sat on her throne beside her husband. The meeting was quite boring really, but it was amusing to her to watch how Francis had to struggle to keep his attention on the nobles. She would raise her eyebrows and smirk at him if his eyes lingered a little too long on the front of her dress and he would look away in embarrassment of being caught.

Mary went to leave when the meeting was over and the nobles were dismissed, but Francis caught her by the arm.

"Oh no, you do not get to come here and distract me like that, and leave again," he spoke, his voice dripping with lust and she had to fight back to urge to smirk at the effect she had on him.

"Was I distracting you? I wasn´t aware, Your Grace," she replied innocently.

He waited a painfully long moment until the last of the nobles had left, before he pulled her tightly against him, pressing his lips onto hers. She instantly opened her mouth to his tongue as if on instinct. He couldn´t stop the moan that escaped him at the willingness she showed. I did not help him keep control when she uttered the words "I need you" a moment later.

He pulled back and grabbed her hand, nearly dragging her toward their chambers. She was laughing at his eagerness when he closed the door behind them. Her laughs were cut off by his lips on hers again and this time it was her who moaned. With their faces still locked together by the mouths he pushed her gently toward the bed.

Before either of them took any notice, her dress and her garments had been scattered onto the floor and he was placing kisses on every bare patch of skin he could find. She groaned when she realized that he was still completely dressed. She pulled his head away from her neck, where he was probably leaving a purple mark that she would need to cover when they were done, and sat up.

Before he could protest, she was pushing him down so she was on top. He smirked at her. This was the most control of their marital activities that she had taken and he wasn´t going to stop her. Her lips found his again and she giggled at the groan that came from under her when she began biting down on his lower lip like he had done to her so many times.

She really hated the shirts he wore. It seemed as if it had an endless amount of buttons that she had to undo before she could finally pull of his shirt. She quickly noted to herself for future reference that he very much liked it when she raked her nails across the bare skin of his stomach, leaving kisses on his chest.

…

"That was..." Francis muttered breathlessly as she fell back on the bed beside him, equally as breathless.

"You should distract me more often, Wife," he said, turning toward her, placing kisses along her neck.

She giggled in response and nodded.

"I think I just might, Husband."

They stayed there for a while, both struggling to catch their breath.

"You know," Mary started as she turned to look up at him from her place on his chest.

"I think your father might be disappointed if you don´t show up for your meeting with him," she finished and had to suppress a giggle at the groan the came from him.

"Do I have to go?" he asked, a pout on his lips, looking and sounding like a child again.

"I´m afraid so," she breathed, placing kisses on his chest. "Though," she started and lifted herself up on her elbow so she could kiss him.

"I think…" she pecked his lips.

"You might…" another peck.

"Have a little…" another peck.

"Time."

She barely finished speaking that one little word before he grabbed her face with both hands and ran his tongue across her lower lip.

"Is that so?" he asked, pulling back for only a second.

"Mhh," she moaned into his mouth as if to say yes and that was all he needed.

…

Francis turned out to be a little late to the meeting with his father, but Henry just raised his eyebrows and smirked when he saw the disheveled hair and crooked clothes.

"I see your marriage is successful at least." Francis only looked down in embarrassment and refused to comment.

His father didn´t let it go so easily.

"I know I keep saying that you need an heir and that might be true, but you should know something else."

Francis was surprised to hear the sincerity in Henry´s voice, a sincerity that he had never before heard from his father.

"I let your mother push me away when she was struggling to conceive an heir and I guess I only added to that."

Francis found himself strangely out of place. His father never spoke of his marriage with his mother unless to complain about something that Catherine had done and he needed to vent his anger or irritation. This was a new side of the man that he had known his entire life and he wasn´t sure what to think of it, to be honest.

"Don´t push her away and don´t let her push you away if it turns out that she has the same struggles as your mother."

It was silent between the two men as the older finished his little speech. The younger remained in a state of surprise and struggled to reply.

"I…um…thanks…I mean…I won´t."

If anyone had been listening and tried to mention it to either of them later, both would deny that the conversation had ever taken place. Francis refrained from mentioning it to Mary as they lied in their bed that night, both spent from the day´s activities. She probably wouldn´t believe him if he did tell her. Francis was not completely sure the conversation had actually taken place or if he had simply imagined it.


	4. Chapter Four

Hey Guys

I know this should have been posted much earlier than it was, but I just got new glasses and the last two days have been filled with dizziness and headaches so I didn´t get much done... (I know, excuses, excuses...)

This doesn´t have anything to do with Reign, but I just watched Divergent at the movies the other day and I loved it! I haven´t read the books yet - I ordered them online but they won´t get here before June...I´ll probably end up regretting that I watched the movie before reading the book - I usually do it the other way around (the proper way, in my opinion)

Anyways, thank you guys so much for the reviews on the third chapter - you guys rock :D

Oh, and this chapter is longer - I wanted to cram as much as I could in it... :D

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Mary continued to "distract" Francis on a regular basis, and while the man in question enjoyed it very much, he was wondering what had brought on the sudden change in his wife.

When he asked her one day, lying intertwined under the covers in their bed, he wasn´t expecting the answer he got. A part of him was expecting her to shrug it off and say that nothing had changed.

She was silent for a while, wondering if and what she should tell him. He was starting to realize that he might not be getting an answer at all.

"My mother…"

He raised his eyebrows at her. That was not the direction he thought this conversation was going to take. He didn´t really want to think of his mother in law after what they had just done. It had been bad enough during the consummation of their marriage; it was bad enough without Bash there watching and even worse with him. He was sure it was worse for Mary though. He knew the guilt of everything was eating away at her and he knew that it made it that much harder for her. He could feel the change in her after they had realized he was there. The eagerness in her that followed had nothing to do with pleasure. She wanted the whole thing over with and he couldn´t find it in him to blame her for that. He didn´t exactly enjoy the publicity of it all either.

...

He felt it when she took a deep breath, her head placed on his chest while her hand absentmindedly played with his fingers.

"I got another letter from her a few weeks ago," she continued.

Francis looked down at her, only to find her eyes looking away, locked on some unknown thing in the corner of the room. He didn´t interrupt her, and let her take the time she needed. He could sense that this was bigger than he first imagined when he started the conversation.

"She wants to know when she can expect an heir."

He wasn´t really surprised. Mary had told him of her letters before. She wouldn´t normally comment on it, trying to shrug it off as if it didn´t bother her. The solemnness in her voice when she spoke told him that this was bothering her more than he had originally thought. He had gotten several remarks from nobles and his father, asking when they would be announcing a pregnancy. He could always shrug it off though; smile slightly and change the subject to other, more important matters.

For Mary, however, it was different. The comments she got only added more pressure on her. He hadn´t really thought about it before. Mary would always seem so strong and indifferent in public when they were asked, but he could see now that it was only an act. He wondered why he hadn´t seen it before. He should have.

"Mary, you know I won´t pressure you…I doesn´t matter to me when we have a child. I know it will happen someday," he said softly, trying to comfort her.

She turned to look at him, her eyes glazed with wet tears.

"We have been married for more than a year. We have made love almost daily." A small blush warmed her cheeks but she didn´t let it faze her.

"If I haven´t conceived yet, what are the chances for the future?"

Francis didn't really know what to say. He just shook his head and pulled her closer to him, if possible.

"It took my parents ten years but they still went on to have ten children," he reasoned.

Mary knew he was right, of course. She was worrying over nothing. She didn´t only have to worry about the pressure from others, though. She was putting pressure on herself as well. She wanted a child. She had dreamed of children since she was little and she had dreamed of having Francis´ fair-haired, blue-eyed children since she first laid eyes on him when she returned to court. She wanted this more than anything and it more than saddened her that it seemed like it wasn´t happening at all.

…

They barely spoke of it again for a long time. Francis would continue to ask her if she was alright every time someone made the smallest remark (which happened quite often, really) and she would give the biggest smile she could muster in response and nod.

Of course Mary would meet Catherine too, on a daily basis, and she was thankful that it seemed like her mother-in-law wasn´t going to say anything. She wouldn´t dare make light of a situation like Mary´s current one; not when she had found herself in the exact same one nearly 25 years earlier. For the longest time, neither of them would say anything to each other. They would nod in respect as they passed each other in the halls.

Mary still found it hard to know how to feel about Catherine. After everything the older woman had put her through in the time since she came back from the convent, she found it hard to simply put it all behind her. She knew the motives behind her actions and she honestly couldn´t say that she wouldn´t have done the exact same thing, had she been in Catherine´s position and her own child, hypothetically as it was, was threatened. Still, Mary was haunted by all the terror she had gone through because of the French Queen and the Prophesy that Nostradamus had told them no longer posed a threat to Francis´ life.

Was she supposed to forgive and forget just because Nostradamus said that Francis was now safe and that they would have many years together? Was she supposed to forget the fear that continued to haunt her dreams nearly every night since their wedding? She had nightmares that Nostradamus had lied to them; that she only had months, weeks or even days left with Francis before she would watch him die in her arms.

She knew, if she was thinking rationally, that Nostradamus didn´t have any motives to lie and that Catherine wouldn´t have fought for their marriage in the way she did if she didn´t truly believe that their fate had changed. Catherine could and would do many things, but she would never put any of her children´s life on the line like that.

…

The French Queen walked toward her, wearing a dress in her favorite red color and stopped right before her. She was smiling too brightly at her and it unsettled Mary slightly. She didn´t have to ask and Catherine didn´t have to say anything for her to know that the queen had a plan and wanted Mary to be a part of it.

"Hello my Dear," Catherine greeted her. Mary nodded in response and waited for the older woman to get to the point of their conversation. With Catherine, there was always a point.

Seemingly realizing this, Catherine continued without waiting for a response from Mary who wasn´t really planning on giving her one anyway.

"I´m going to share a secret with you; one that I think you will be most interested in."

Mary rolled her eyes and shook her head. Of course Catherine would never end her plotting days. Mary had no patience to handle her mother-in-law´s plans, even if they weren´t directed towards her own person.

"I don´t…" she started, but Catherine just shook her head and smiled brighter.

"Ah, but I think you want to hear this," Catherine interjected and, to Mary´s great surprise, hooked her arm with her daughter-in-law´s and led the objecting queen down the hall toward her own chambers.

Mary was losing patience by the second and she was exasperated when they finally reached the queen´s chambers and her arm was yet again free.

"What is it that you want?" she asked, wanting to leave as soon as possible.

"I want a grandchild," Catherine replied and Mary didn´t bother to hide the surprise on her face. She never thought she would hear this from her mother-in-law. Catherine was supposed to be the one person who understood what she was going through. Then again, with Catherine, you never knew what you could expect.

The older woman took a step forward and took Mary´s hand. Even Mary herself was surprised that she didn´t instantly pull her hand away.

"Oh Mary, I am not trying to put pressure on you," the woman told her in that all too sweet voice. "God knows you´re getting enough of that from everyone else. I want to help."

Mary looked at incredulously. How in the world did Catherine plan on helping her? Mary was pretty certain that the matter of conceiving a child was between a man and a woman. What in the world could Catherine do to help that she and Francis couldn´t do themselves?

She got her answer soon enough when Catherine turned to grab a little blue bottle from her desk. She held it in her hand, carefully turning it over as if she was studying it for a moment before handing it to Mary.

"It arrived this morning. I ordered it once I realized that you might have the same struggles that I did."

Mary hesitantly took the bottle. She looked at it, trying to make out what it was. From what little she could see through the bottle, it didn't seem to be liquid. Perhaps it was some sort of lotion. She looked up at Catherine in confusion.

"I tried hundreds of different potions and lotions and other tricks that were supposed to work before I conceived Francis. This was the last thing I tried."

Mary was not about to mention Clarissa and only nodded in response. The latter seemed to notice her hesitance as she once again took Mary´s hand.

"Believe me, it doesn´t get better if you keep waiting for nature to happen on its own. I should know; I went through ten years of it."

Catherine paused for a moment, letting go of Mary´s hand. She took a step back and walked around the large wooden desk and sat down. She didn´t meet Mary´s gaze as she spoke again.

"It ruined my marriage and I don´t wish to see you and my son end up the same way. Please, it´s worth a try." Mary had no choice but to believe that Catherine meant what she said. It wasn´t just the sincerity of her voice; of course Catherine wouldn´t want to see Francis turn out like his father. No one wanted Francis to turn out like his father.

Catherine made it seem like Mary was holding in her hand the only thing to prevent that fate.

Mary had to shake herself out of it. Catherine was working her manipulation game on her again and she nearly succeeded. Catherine seemed to realize that Mary was pushing against needing any help – it´s what she spent so much time doing herself.

"Just consider it… You might find that it helps."

* * *

I´m quite proud of the Mary/Catherine scene in the end here - considering that I wrote this before Dirty Laundry aired :D

Please tell me what you think :D


	5. Chapter Five

Hey guys :) Happy Easter! I hope you´re all having a great day :D

Here´s chapter five - I worked really hard on this, rewritting it several times so please tell me what you think :)

I hate to be one to have to ask for reviews, but I got a total of 2 on the previous chapter...please...please...please...please...please?

* * *

**Chapter Five:**

* * *

Mary could barely sleep that night. She had hidden the bottle, she had received from Catherine, in her trunk; a place where she knew Francis was less likely to find it. Somehow, she knew that Francis would be less enthusiastic if he knew about it – even if she hadn´t been the one to ask for it and hadn´t planned on using it.

She lied there in the chamber. She could hear the light snoring from Francis who seemed to be peacefully sleeping beside her. She wanted to be able to sleep. She wanted to escape her thoughts, at least just for a few hours while she slept. But alas, sleep was eluding her and it seemed too light now for her to get any rest. The moon bathed the room in bright bluish light and she could easily make out the shape of the trunk in the opposite corner of the room.

She tried to close her eyes, desperate to gain peace but she gave up with a heavy sigh only a few seconds later. She was clearly unsuccessful. She looked at Francis, wondering if he had felt her stirring, but quickly found that his breathing was still as steady as earlier. Throwing off the covers, she sat up in bed. She tried not to stir the bed too much. Glancing back at Francis, yet again making sure that her movements hadn´t woken him up, she stood slowly, leaving the warmth of the bed.

The coldness in the air surprised her and she rubbed her arms, trying to find a little warmth before she could find the lace shawl that was hanging off the back of the chair by the desk. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she welcomed what little shelter from the cold it could give her and stepped through the doors to the private balcony connected to their chambers. She stood there, leaning against the stone railing, bathed in moonlight, letting her thoughts wander towards everything and nothing. Before she could make any effort to stop herself, her mind was going through all the what-ifs and maybes and all the hopes and dreams she had for the future with Francis.

She wanted a son; a son that would look like his father with unruly blonde curls and bright and curious blue eyes; a son she could name James, honoring the father she never got to know.

She wanted a daughter; a daughter that would look like her mother with beautiful brown curls and sweet and innocent brown eyes. For a while, every time she had imagined a daughter, her name was always Anne. It was strange really. No one in Francis´ or her own family was named Anne. It would be honoring no one in particular. Still, she found herself liking the name.

In all honesty, it did not matter to her what gender their child would be. Of course, they would need to have a son eventually, but she just desperately wanted a child. Was it her fault that it hadn´t happened yet? It had to be. Francis was obviously able to father a child, so it had to be her.

She tried not to let her thoughts wander there. She tried to believe Francis when he said that it would happen one day. She really tried. She wanted to believe it. Still, how could she not think it?

Francis would tell her that they should just keep trying. He told her that every time she let it show how much this really bothered her.

It was with his words in mind that she went back inside. Initially, she had planned to go to the trunk and fetch the bottle, but instead, she headed directly for the bed. Francis was still sleeping, unaware that Mary had been up at all.

She sat on the bed, her body turned to face his. For some reason she had to take a deep breath before she leaned down, placing kisses unto the exposed skin of her husband´s shoulders and neck, slowly waking him from his sleep.

The sound he made was something between a moan and a mumble as he turned toward her, forcing her to stop.

"Mary? What is it?" he groaned sleepily as he realized that it was still dark. She didn´t offer him an answer at first, continuing her gentle sucking on his neck. He enjoyed it, of course, but it was unlike Mary to do something like this; waking him up in the middle of the night.

When he figured that he was not going to get an answer from her, he moved slightly, forcing her to stop what she was doing.

"Mary, stop," he spoke. He tried not to sound too rejecting, but he wasn´t sure if he succeeded. "What are you doing? It is night still, why aren´t you sleeping?"

He knew for sure that he had failed his attempt on a gentle rejection when Mary turned her head away from him in embarrassment. She sat up quickly, desperately trying to pull the shawl which had fallen to the floor, back around her shoulders. She felt as though the temperature of the room had dropped significantly in the span of mere seconds.

"Mary…" he whispered, pulling himself up slightly. She reached over, trying to touch her arm but she pulled away instantly.

"I couldn´t sleep and I…" she trailed off. She was unable to form words. She wasn´t sure where it suddenly came from, or why, but she found herself wiping away tears from her cheeks.

Tears were clouding her vision as she spoke without looking at him. "I´m sorry…"

Francis found himself panicking as the single tears turned into streams and her body racked with involuntary sobs. He stayed frozen for a moment, trying to think clearly. He had only just woken up and he wasn´t capable of forming a coherent thought yet.

"Why are you apologizing?" If he had been able to think straight, he would probably have known what the answer would be before she even said anything.

"For not…" She was cut off by a hiccup. "…giving you a child…"

He was silent as he sat up straight, wrapping his arms around her shaking body. He was not really sure of what to say, so he waited for her to calm down.

It took minutes, maybe more, but her breathing eventually evened out, only to be disturbed by small sniffles here and there. Loosening his grip around her, he placed a finger under her chin, willing her to look up at him.

"Mary, listen to me. You cannot do this to yourself," he told her softly. The hand that wasn´t placed on her chin was playing with her hair in a way that he knew would calm her down. "You can´t keep blaming yourself. We will have children eventually. It does not matter to me if that day is tomorrow or in ten years. I just want you."

Mary couldn´t meet his gaze. Instead, she leaned forward so that her face landed in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. She tried to nod, but it could not really have been more than an awkward move with her head considering its position. The tears were still streaming down her cheeks and she didn´t try to stop them as she clung to his strong frame. She kept quietly whimpering and sniffing as he whispered sweet nothings and calming words into her hair.

…

Neither of them really got any sleep that night. They eventually moved under the covers as Mary started shivering from the cold. Francis watched in silence as the light from the windows gradually turned from bluish to grey to golden. He kept stroking her hair as Mary fell asleep with her head placed on his chest. He listened to the sound of her steady breathing and the first few birds as they started tweeting from branches of nearby trees.

He was at a loss. Other kings had banished their wives when they had gone a length of time without conceiving a child. It seemed as if Mary had somehow let her fears get to her in a way that convinced her that Francis was capable of doing the same to her. Some might even have expected that Francis would, considering that Mary had shown no signs of carrying a child at all over the previous year. She had to know that he loved her too much to even consider the idea for even the smallest of moments, right? Surely Mary knew that. Surely, she knew that he would rather have her and no heirs despite what any advisors and councilmen could tell him. He would rather have her and no children, than lose her, only to marry another who could possibly give him heirs. He had younger brothers. If he was to leave no heirs then Charles would succeed him. The French throne would still go on no matter what.

This wasn´t to say that he didn´t care about children at all. He wanted them. He wanted the chance to hold them as newborns. He wanted to watch them take their first steps. He wanted to play catch with his toddler daughter while his older son would ask for his attention on his reading. He wanted days where he could wake up with Mary in his arms and feel the swell of her abdomen growing with the life hiding just beneath the surface. He wanted to feel the kicks of their unborn child against the smooth skin of her stomach.

He wanted all those moments, but most of all, he wanted to experience them with Mary.

In all the dreams, Mary was always there in the background. Mary was watching with exhaustion and love in her eyes as he held their newborn child for the first time. Mary laughed with joy at the sight of their child taking their first steps. Mary watched as he played catch with his daughter and she would ruffle the messy hair of their son as she walked past them working on his reading.

It was breaking his heart to see her like this. She had never worked well under pressure. She would keep up appearances and do her best to hide her feelings and fears in public, but when it was just the two of them, in the safety of their chambers, her walls crumbled and she came undone. She was inconsolable. She felt like she had failed him.


	6. Chapter Six

Hey guys :) I know I usually update on Thursdays (Danish time) but I have been sick for the past two days (really for the past week, but have stayed home from school for the past two days) and I wasn´t really feeling up for writing anything (I usually rewrite the chapters to add more details because I think I wrote some really crappy stuff the first time around).

Anyways, I watched Reign yesterday morning - It was really an awesome episode - sparked some intense Frary feels in me that I was not prepared for...

Without further ado, and another apology for being late, here is chapter six.

* * *

**Chapter Six:**

* * *

Days passed and turned into weeks which in time turned into a month. The temperature grew warmer little by little and the thick coat of snow, which for several months had covered the landscape as far as the eye could see, was growing thinner. The first few snowdrops and other colorful flowers grew from underneath the patches of white left behind among the fresh green grass.

Along with the rising temperature, it seemed that everyone around the French court were merrier as well; one person especially so. The young queen smiled enthusiastically as she and her ladies in waiting were looking for a dress to wear for the day. She actually seemed to be enjoying herself when she was dancing at parties. She was seemingly slowly returning to her own self.

Francis had missed the girl he had fallen in love with nearly two years earlier. He missed the strong and kind and charming Mary who wasn´t afraid to stand up to her bullies. He knew that it would probably be a while before she would truly be back to being that person, but he hoped that this was a step in the right direction. She still had days where she would close in on herself and push people away as she let her fears take over.

…

It was around the same time as spring came around that she began to feel different. She would have days where she would feel incredibly sore when she woke up in the mornings. She would never tell that to Francis, though. He had bigger problems to worry about than her.

His father had been acting strangely for a while. Mary had noticed it too, even though she hadn´t really been around him much. She had found that she would much rather try to avoid him as much as she could than be forced to spend any length of time with him. She and Francis never really talked about it until it became evident that it was a problem they couldn´t really avoid. He was kept busy, occupied with his new play-thing and mistress, Penelope, whom no one seemed to take a liking to. Mary didn´t really care much about her presence and neither did anyone else really; she kept Henry distracted from doing the work that he was clearly unable to do properly. Catherine and Francis could and would manage without him.

The soreness was only her first symptom. By mid-March, she would be completely drained of energy when she would go to bed at night. She wanted to shrug it off as nothing. She wanted to believe that the lack of energy derived from the extra walks she would take. She couldn´t let herself think the thought that the symptoms, she was experiencing, was her body telling her that she was pregnant. It remained a voice in the back of her head; a thought she didn´t allow herself to entertain. The part of her, that had left her in a depressed state throughout the winter, told her not to get excited over something that could be part of her imagination. She had heard the stories they had said about Mary Tudor; about how she had displayed every symptom of being pregnant – weight gain and the lack of monthly courses – only to find that a baby never came. A phantom pregnancy; that is what they called it.

She wasn´t sure if she could handle the heartbreak if it turned out that she had simply imagined things that weren´t there or if, God forbid, she had to go through a phantom pregnancy. The thought of her and Francis´ excitement as they waited for the arrival of a child, only for the due date to pass, and then the next due date, and then for the belly to retrieve like it had never existed in the first place.

…

By the end of the month, she realized that her monthly courses hadn´t come about as they usually would. She had gotten dressed that morning, like she usually would, when a maid entered, curtseying deeply. She had greeted the maid with a smile and a cheerful "good morning", feeling happier that day. She had been picking out jewelry and was putting it on when the maid cleared her throat.

Mary turned to find the maid holding the sheets, looking a little nervous.

"If I may, Your Grace," she started, pausing to search for acceptance in the eyes of her queen. Mary nodded for the girl to continue.

"It has come to my attention that…" she paused again, trying to find the best way to voice her thoughts without offending the queen in front of her. "You haven´t used your monthly linens, Your Grace."

Mary furrowed her brow at her, not completely understanding what the maid was getting at. So she hadn´t used her monthly linens yet – her monthly courses weren´t due until…

She hadn't used her monthly linens. She had been regular for most of her life, her courses coming steadily in the beginning of each month. Why hadn´t she realized this yet?

"Yes, it seems as though, I haven´t," she muttered, unsure if she was replying to the maid or speaking to herself. She was not really sure what she felt then.

"Thank you, Jean," she said quickly, turning away from the maid as she left the room, carrying the bed linens with her.

Mary stared at her expression in the mirror. She was pale, looking like someone who had seen a ghost. Her courses were at least two weeks late. She was definitely not imagining that; not if her maid had noticed it too.

She wanted to get up, once she was sure that her legs were steady enough to carry her, and run to Francis to tell him. She wanted to see the look on his face when she told him that what they had both wanted – worked vigorously to achieve – had come true.

That´s when it hit her. She couldn´t tell him. She couldn´t bear the thought of putting his hopes up like that, only to have them burst again if it turned out that she wasn´t pregnant. He wouldn´t say anything. He would comfort her and pretend that he was okay, but he would be heartbroken – they both would.

…

It had taken everything in her not to tell him that night. She had been brushing her hair when he entered the rooms. He was smiling brightly as if he had waited the entire night just to see her. He had grinned as she looked at him, unable to fight a smile back. He was at her side before she knew it. She giggled as he wrapped his arms around her petite frame and picked her up from the couch, she was sitting on. She hadn´t protested when he kissed her with great fervor, carrying her to their bed.

Their lips were moving in perfect synchronization. She really didn´t want to pull away, but realized that she needed to. She had to pry him off her, breathless as she looked him in the eyes. If she was pregnant, they shouldn´t continue the intimacy in bed. She would be considered unclean.

"Francis…" she had breathed, still struggling to catch a breath. He was watching her, studying her face as he tried to decode what was going through her mind.

"We shouldn´t…" she tried again. She cleared her throat, willing herself to get it over with. "I don´t think we should do this anymore. At least not for a little while."

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes and regretted it instantaneously. He looked so defeated. She knew that he deserved a reason, an explanation for her rejection, but she couldn´t make the words get past her lips. Her mouth felt dry and she felt guilty as she turned her back to him, pretending to go to sleep.

…

Francis watched her turn on her side. As he lied there, faced with her back, he was confused. He was sure that this was what his father had warned him about. Mary was pushing him away, wasn´t she? It was surreal to him; unexpected. She had seemed so happy when he had spoken to her over breakfast earlier that day. She had seemed almost like herself again. He hadn´t asked why she was so cheerful; he assumed that she would tell him if it was something important.

He had kissed her that night, wanted for her for the entire duration of the feast with the nobles. He knew that Mary had days when she wasn´t in the mood. He knew she still had her bad days. This was different, though. On those days, she would give him a weak smile, say "not tonight" while looking regretful, and whisper "goodnight" before going to sleep.

Now, he was thinking that maybe he misinterpreted something or if something had happened after dinner, when he had last seen her, that she wasn´t telling him about. Perhaps she was simply putting on a brave face when she seemed cheerful.

He was surprised, to say the least, and saddened when she had pushed him away that night. He wasn´t as frustrated as he thought he would be. When he listened to her breathing, he knew that despite her best try at pretending to be asleep, she wasn´t. He wanted to grab her, force her to face him and demand answers. He wanted to know why she was pushing him away. He thought things were better. He thought…

In the end, it didn´t matter what he thought. He wasn´t going to let her push him away. He wasn´t going to force her into doing something she didn´t want to do, but he wasn´t allowed to push him away that easily. After everything they had been through, he would not let her slip out of his grasp. He would fight for her.


	7. Chapter Seven

Hey guys

I´m sorry that this is so late, but I have a good excuse. Since I have been sick I have been falling behind in school. I had an English Paper due Friday that I only just turned in today as well as a Spanish Paper for today as well. Influenza can be such an ass sometimes...

Anyways, be warned that from now on chapters will only be uploaded once a week. I need to focus on school - not only because of papers but also because exams start little over a month from now. I can´t take the time I usually do, writing stories and you´re on the losing end of the deal, I´m sorry...

I will try my best to upload every Sunday, but still, I cannot make any promises. School does come first for me...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this - please tell me what you think :D (If anyone is watching Teen Wolf - I uploaded a One-Shot the other day, so please, go check that out)

* * *

**Chapter Seven:**

* * *

He couldn´t take it anymore when she pulled away from his grasp the following night. He sighed as she slipped off the bed and went to the chair by the mirror. She avoided his gaze while she brushed her hair, trying to pretend that he wasn´t behind her, looking hurt and defeated.

"Please don´t push me away." He sounded tired and she felt tears burning in her eyes at the sound. She couldn´t fight the urge to look up at him through the mirror and she immediately wished she hadn´t. He was staring at her with something unintelligible in his eyes. She looked down at the brush in her hand that had stilled in its movements.

She never meant to make him feel like she was pushing him away. She never wanted him to make him feel like she no longer held any desire for him.

"I´m not pushing you away…" she promised, her voice cracking slightly as she turned in her seat to look at him. "We shouldn´t be doing this anymore, for a while at least," she added. She searched his eyes for any sign of anger or resentment toward her. Instead, she only found confusion and hurt and she couldn´t fight a frown.

He climbed off the bed and approached her. When he stood only two feet away from her, he took her hands and she involuntarily leaned into him.

"Mary, I know you want a child and I do too, but pushing me away because we didn´t succeed yet is-"

He was sincere but Mary couldn´t take listening to it. She needed him to understand.

"I am not pushing you away, Francis," she interrupted, placing her hands on his chest to bring some distance between them and looked into his eyes. "I would never push you away," she reassured him with a small smile. However, it seemed that her words had the opposite effect that she had desired. He understood nothing now. She knew, as she saw the frown on his face, that she needed to tell him the truth. It did not matter that she risked hurting him if it turned out that she wasn´t pregnant. She was already hurting him by not telling the truth.

It seemed as if the words were stuck in her throat and she tried her hardest to force them out.

"Francis, I.." she swallowed, trying to clear her throat.

"I´m pregnant," she finally mustered. "At least, I think I am. I haven´t seen the midwife yet, but I-"

Her rambling was cut short by Francis´ lips crashing with her own forcefully. When she pulled back, gasping for air, she was met with a grin, bigger than she could have ever hoped.

"I´m going to be a father?" he asked, his voice dripping with love and excitement. Mary didn´t even try to conceal it as the corners of her lips turned upwards into a grin that matched his. This was exactly what she had dreamed of; to see his face and eyes light up as she told him the news that they had both been waiting for a long time.

He laughed as he pulled her into another bone crushing hug and it took him only a moment before he realized that he had to be more careful with her and loosened his grip. Moving his arms to wrap them around her waist he picked her up and spun her around. He decided then, that he could listen to the sweet sound of a giggle escaping his beautiful wife at the sudden move every day. He knew they probably looked pathetic and immature – not like the rulers they were at all - to anyone watching, though thankfully, no one was. He could stay there, in that moment, forever.

…

They were lying in bed, their limbs carelessly intertwined under the covers as if they were trying to become one person. Francis was blowing his warm breath on her neck with every exhale and she had to refrain herself from giggling as it tickled her skin. He held her close to his chest, one hand running through her hair and the other tracing patterns with a feather light touch on her flat stomach. Francis stared ahead, comforted by the feeling of the warmth of her body pressed against his own.

"I will talk to the midwife, I´ll tell her to see you the first thing in the morning," he murmured with his lips pressed against the soft skin of her neck. When he received no answer, he carefully leaned over her, only to find that her eyes were closed. He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he didn´t hear it when her breathing evened out. She had fallen asleep without him noticing at all. He supposed that his mind had been too preoccupied. He couldn´t help but smile to himself as he pressed a light kiss to her neck. He was really going to be a father, wasn´t he? It was really happening; a person who was a perfect mix of him and Mary.

…

He had seen her outside the throne room the following day after his usual meeting with the council. He was chatting with a nobleman and honestly didn´t want to stay in his company for much longer when he saw her. She was sitting in a chair by the window opposite the entrance to the throne room. Her gaze was lowered and her hands fiddled in her lap. Unusually for her, she didn´t look up to acknowledge the councilmen who bowed as they passed her. He tried not to listen as he heard one man comment to another about the queen acting strange and being rude. Everyone who had met Mary knew that she was usually always kindhearted and sweet and this wasn´t like her.

Before Francis really had a chance to notice all these things, he was already at her side. She looked up at him and he instantly saw the solemnness on her face and the wetness in her eyes.

"Mary, what is it?" he asked quickly, worried for her. He placed a hand on her cheek as he didn´t get a response. He watched as her eyes flickered to the men surrounding them, telling him that this wasn´t the place.

He removed his hand from her face and grabbed her hand with it instead, helping her stand from the chair. Deciding that the empty throne room was the nearest place where they could have any sort of privacy without making the walk through the castle to their own chambers, he led her in there. He let go of her hand as they reach the middle of the room. Walking away from her, he closed the curtains and informed the guards who stood outside that no one was to be let through.

She hadn´t moved when he returned to her side. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she cried silently. She leaned into his arms and felt her legs weaken under her. No longer able to hold her own weight, her knees collapsed under her and Francis eased her to the floor. Her hands gripped his shirt tightly as she sobbed into his chest.

"Mary, what is it? What is the matter?" he asked, holding her close and placing kisses in her hair.

"She…" she sobbed. "She…"

"The midwife? What did she say?" The words were hurried as he panicked.

"She said…I´m not pregnant."

Francis felt his heart drop like a stone, heavy in his chest. He felt as if all oxygen had been sucked from his lungs. He couldn´t breathe properly and it felt as if the room was spinning. He heard it like something far in the distance when Mary cried harder, her body racking with violent sobs. He supposed that he wasn´t very good at hiding the deep disappointment he felt. How could he, though? This was something he´d wanted for so long – something they´d both wanted. He had been handed the one thing that he wanted the most and he had it ripped from him again just as quick and sudden as it had appeared to him in the first place. For just a moment, however short that moment was, he had thought their struggles were over. For just a moment, he had allowed himself to dream of a future and happy ever after with Mary at his side.

He knew it was foolish. He believed in happy ever after´s just as much as he believe in Prophesies and fortune telling. They were something out of a fairytale; something for children to believe in so the world didn´t seem quite so gloomy and wicked. He didn´t believe in it. He knew better than to think that there was a thing such as happy ever after – especially not for kings and queens. They had to make the best of the time they had together because it wouldn´t last forever. They both had a duty to each their own country and they needed to put them ahead of themselves. If Scotland or France needed their undivided attention, it would be so. Their duty would always come before their marriage, but that didn´t mean that he didn´t dream of a time where it could be different.

He didn´t realize it before it was already happening. Tears were in his eyes and he tried to blink them away. He couldn´t care less about anybody seeing them like that – embraced on the floor. All he cared about was holding Mary in his arms and making sure that she was alright.


	8. Chapter Eight

Hey guys :) Here is the next chapter :) I hope you like it - please tell me what you think :D

* * *

**Chapter Eight:**

* * *

She continued to sob into his shoulder, clinging to him for dear life. She didn´t look at his face, scared of what she might find. She kept her head low as her thoughts ran wild, going in a thousand and one different directions.

She had been so sure. With her delayed courses and the symptoms that she had heard other expectant mother complain about when she was still in the convent, she honestly believed that this one thing was finally happening. Everything else in their lives might be chaotic or even falling apart, but she really thought that something was finally in their favor.

It seemed like she couldn´t have been more wrong. She had done the exact thing that she had promised herself that she would never do; she had let Francis get his hopes. Now, she had to watch his face as all the hope crumbled in front of her eyes. She had to watch his heart break and know that she was the cause of it.

He would argue otherwise if she ever told him what she was thinking in that moment, but she could never actually tell him. He deserved to know and he should be able to trust that she would tell him if something was bothering her. Still, this was one thing that she couldn´t tell him. She couldn´t bear listening to one more of his reassurances that it wasn´t her fault and that it would happen eventually. It didn´t help her at all. How could she believe him when everything else in her life told her otherwise? How could she believe that it wasn´t because of her that she wasn´t pregnant yet when even the midwife told her so? How could she believe that she would ever have a child when it hadn't happened after 18 months of marriage?

…

She had opened her eyes that morning to find Greer by her bedside. The lady-in-waiting smiled and greeted her mistress with a "good morning" before turning away to find a dress for Mary to wear for the day. While shaking her head at dresses and nodding at others, she decided to stay in bed for just a little bit longer. She was comfortable under the covers, the bed not yet cold with the absence of Francis beside her. She snuggled into the pillow, burying her nose into the soft object and breathed in the scent of Francis that had somehow gotten on her pillow – a mix of sweat and something else that she couldn´t quite identify but reminded her of Francis every time she smelled it.

Greer smiled softly before telling her with sympathy in her voice that Mary needed to get up. Francis had made an agreement with Agnes, the court midwife, to see Mary as soon as possible. While he hadn´t actually told her anything other than to make sure that Mary got there in time, Greer didn't find it hard to guess the answer. No one would, really. Mary and Francis had been trying for a child for too many months now for anyone to be surprised.

Mary reluctantly nodded and it was only when she moved to get up that she felt something strange. It felt moist between her legs and she pulled the covers off with a speed that was far from graceful, or human, for that matter. She saw with shock written all over her face that her once white nightgown was tainted with dark red blood. Somehow she couldn´t believe that it was just her courses; there was too much blood.

"Mary, what is it?" Greer had asked, standing too far away from the bed to see what it was that her queen was staring at with such disbelief. She stepped closer and gasped when she saw the blood. For a moment her mind was blank. She just stood there with wide eyes before waking up from her stupor. She blinked before regaining her composure.

"I´ll tell the guards to get Agnes," she said, but it seemed like her words didn´t register to Mary at all.

Mary was frozen in her bed, her eyes seemingly unblinking as they stared at the blood in front of her. It was as if she was afraid to move. Her mind was blank and in overdrive at the same time. Many different thoughts, too many, were running through her mind but she couldn´t focus on any of them. Only one thought stood out from the others. Too much blood.

Greer returned to her friend´s bedside after giving orders to the guards. Without hesitance, she grabbed Mary´s hand but the girl didn´t look away from the blood.

They sat in silence, Greer rubbing circles on back of the pale hand she was holding, supposedly trying to soothe her, but it wasn´t helping. Mary could barely feel it at all. The door opened and, while the guards stayed outside the chamber, Agnes hurried to the bed. Silent tears were rolling down Mary´s cheeks and she didn´t bother to wipe them away. Greer was not even completely sure that Mary knew that she crying in the first place.

It all seemed a blur to Mary as Agnes questioned her. Are you in any pain? Has this happened before? When was the last time you had your courses? Mary could only shake her head or mumble an answer that she hoped wasn´t unintelligible.

The only thing Mary really remembered from that morning is Agnes telling her that her body had rejected the baby, causing her to miscarry. She did not remember Agnes and Greer helping her to stand. She did not remember them changing her clothes and the bed sheets being changed by maids she did not remember entering, and she didn´t remember being helped back into bed. She didn´t remember Agnes grabbing her hand and telling her that she would have another child eventually.

For some reason, she had the clarity to reach out of Agnes´ hand before she left and beg her not to tell Francis. She wanted to be the one to do that.

She didn´t know when it happened or how she managed to calm herself down, but eventually she fell asleep, exhausted already.

…

As soon as she saw him, she knew that she couldn´t tell him. She couldn´t tell him that she had miscarried. She couldn´t bear that thought of crushing him with the news that she had killed their child, even if she had no control over it. She resolved to tell him the partial truth; that she wasn´t pregnant.

Holding on to Francis as she cried into his already soaked shirt, she promised herself that she would never be the cause of such disappointment to Francis again. She had already caused him enough pain to last a lifetime and she knew that he definitely deserved a thousand times better than she could ever offer him. He deserved a wife who could give him what he always wanted and not one who would continuously fail him and hurt him. Yet, there he was, holding _her_ close and whispering soothing words into _her_ ear.


	9. Chapter Nine

Hey guys :) Here is the ninth chapter. I really hope you like it :D Please tell me what you think :)

Next chapter should be up by next Sunday :)

* * *

**Chapter Nine:**

* * *

He didn´t really notice it happening at first. He was too caught up in his own grief; grief over the father that he was slowly realizing that he was inevitably losing. He was too preoccupied with the crisis of his father´s madness and the threat the Protestant rebels in Scotland were posing to both Mary´s mother and crown.

It was little things that gave it away. It didn´t happen suddenly and all at once. It took a while for him to recognize the signs. Too much time.

It started with insomnia. Mary would lie awake for hours, tossing and turning before she would be able to find rest. Francis would be asleep and didn´t notice it before purple circles marked the skin under her eyes. She strained to stay awake during the day and stayed up for hours into the night, her mind reeling.

The next thing he noticed was her eating habits. Mary wasn´t one to have a great appetite, never had been for as long as he remembered; maybe with the exception of the time when they were children and Francis would sneak cakes to her room from parties that they were not allowed to attend. She would devour the pastries as if she hadn´t had anything to eat all day and he would tease her about it until they were both lying on the floor in fits of laughter.

He could hardly say that Mary was the same innocent little girl he knew back then, and sometimes he regretted not being there to watch the gradual change in her from that little girl to the headstrong queen he married. She had been his best friend and he hers. He had been more than upset when he learned that his father had sent Mary away. He had known that her life was threatened because she was a queen by blood, one with a legitimate claim to the English throne. It gave her many enemies. He had known this, but still, it came as a brutal awakening when he became a witness to it first-hand.

He still remembered how he and Mary had been playfully teasing each other as they skipped into the dining room; something that he knew his mother resented. However, instead of the scowl he was expecting to find on her face when he saw her, he saw something else that he couldn´t quite name. His mother seemed troubled. He didn´t have time to ask what was wrong before their nursemaid ran to their side, exclaiming a relieved "There you are, your grace". She grabbed Mary by the hand and before either of the two children could react or protest, she was out of the room. Francis stared after her, though he quickly lost sight of her as she disappeared around the corner. It was only when he could no longer hear her hushed protests and the clicking of her shoes on the floor that he turned to face his parents. His mother walked to his side, her steps slow and careful. She bowed to his level as she explained that Mary´s taster had been poisoned and that they needed to make sure that Mary was safe. Francis could only nod. The nine year old boy had no say in the matter after all. Besides, if it meant that Mary was safe, Francis would gladly be without her company for just one night.

It turned out that it wasn´t just one night. He did not see her that next day either and when he finally mustered up the courage to confront his mother about it, he received an answer that made his heart plummet like a stone in water. Mary had been sent away to a convent. His mother insisted that it was for her own safety and that she would return when she reached maturity and they would be married. He knew, already back then, that there was no point in arguing with his mother, or anyone else for that matter. This was something that couldn´t be changed no matter how many times he wished and hoped he´d see her.

It took weeks, in all honesty, before he finally realized that she wasn´t coming back. At least, not yet. It would be years, seven, to be exact, before he would see her again.

Nearly nine years later it was the same sinking feeling that he felt when he watched as Mary only picked at her food, speaking only when she was addressed. She made no effort to keep up with any small talk. He couldn´t help but frown at her, but she never looked at him, refusing to meet his eyes.

As the future king and queen, he and Mary were required to dance at least once before the party ended. He stood and held out his hand for her as the music started playing. It had been a long time since Mary had really shown how much she enjoyed dancing. At least, she used to enjoy dancing. Francis remembered how she had complained constantly during their dancing lessons as a child. She had been clumsy and continuously misstepped but she would always laugh with him when they danced. He made an effort to tease her about her dancing in such a way that she wasn´t offended but giggled sweetly.

Mary didn´t smile as she nodded and grabbed his hand. Helping her stand, he led her to the dance floor. They danced like they had rehearsed countless times before, but it didn´t seem right. Her hands were placed in his hand and on his shoulder but her grip wasn´t as tight as it usually was.

He leaned closer, his mouth hovering by her ear.

"Are you alright?" he asked, the words only heard by her.

He recognized the fake smile when he saw it and the half-hearted nod she gave in response. He sighed and focused on finishing the dance.

The music stopped and before the next song could start, she pulled back from his arms and leaned in so only he would hear what she wanted to say.

"I am tired, I will go sit down."

He didn´t protest, seeing the look on her face. He didn´t argue that she looked tired, but she also looked like she was about to cry. He grabbed her hand, holding back a sigh when she didn´t grip onto it the same way that she used to. With no words shared between them, he led her back to her seat beside a very talkative count, who was already giving Francis a headache.

She only sat for a few minutes, smiling politely at the count, before she rose, excusing herself for the night.

Francis wanted to follow her to make sure that she got back to her chambers safely, but he was required to stay. His father was indisposed for the night. That was the official story. Francis didn´t really care what his father was doing. Whatever it was that he was doing was apparently important enough to miss the feast. In an attempt not to disappoint the counts and lords who had come from far away, Francis had to stay and entertain.

…

He supposed that he should have noticed it sooner. He should have noticed how she gradually retreated into her own world, shutting him out completely. He should have acted on it sooner. He should have done something before it ended up in the situation they now found themselves in. They hadn´t had a proper conversation for a week. She hadn´t told him of any of what was going through her mind. She would keep to herself, bury herself in books and work on broidery, something she hadn´t done since she was forced to learn it as a child. She had hated doing it back then and Francis supposed that he should have questioned this earlier.

He knew, without asking her, what was bothering her. He never really realized how hard it was for her and how big a toll it was taking on her. She would never tell him. She would keep up appearances to seem strong, even to him.

…

He walked with fast and determined steps to her chambers, desperate to try to get back the girl he loved; the girl who now lived in an unbreakable shell that only resembled her by her exterior looks. He hadn´t figured out which words to use or what to say to her. He only knew that he needed to act now. He needed to do something before it was too late.

He supposed that he made a mistake when he insisted that she should sleep in her old chambers. A few days earlier, he had been a meeting that stretched far into the early hours of the morning. He had sent a guard to tell Mary the he would not return to their chambers before she had gone to bed. He didn´t want to wake her, having finally noticed how sleep seemed to be eluding her these days. He couldn´t risk waking her if she had finally found much needed rest. He had asked the guard to tell her that she should probably sleep in her own chambers that night.

She had stayed there the next night and the night that followed. He didn´t know why and he hadn´t had the chance to ask her. She had been avoiding him for days. She had been avoiding most people for days.

…

He was lost in his mind, trying to figure out how to voice every thought. He was not looking where he was going and collided with someone. Holding onto her in an attempt to steady her, he looked at Kenna to see that she was unharmed. He let his hand drop to his sides when he was satisfied that she was fine.

"I apologize, your grace. I wasn´t looking where I was going," she mumbled and curtseyed. He nodded, wanting to get past her as soon as he could without seeming rude. Kenna was Mary´s friend after all.

Kenna seemed to notice this and smiled sympathetically.

"She just needs time to deal with the miscarriage in her own way." She placed a hand on his shoulder.

He was sure that her words were supposed to comfort him but they had the opposite effect. He felt rage and hurt built up faster than he thought was possible.

"What miscarriage?" he demanded, his voice raised in anger.

He watched as Kenna´s eyes widened in realization.

"She didn´t tell you?"

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply in an attempt to calm himself down before he said anything that he was sure that he would regret later on. Why would she keep this from him? How could she not tell him? Did he not deserve to know?


	10. Chapter Ten

Hey guys :D

Sorry for the delay of this chapter, I simply didn´t have time or energy to finish writing this until today. A chunk of this was taken from 1.19 and I take no credit for that.

While I do appreciate every single review that I get, I really do, I also must say something else. On the last chapter I got a review from an anonymous person. I really appreciate that you take the time to review and I thank you a thousand times for doing so (all of you). However, this comment really did bug me. I am sure that it was well-meaning and that I wasn´t supposed to put as much into it as I did, but please, please, when you write comments (not just here but anywhere, really), please refrain from using sentences like _"I´m going to kill myself"_. I am sure that whoever wrote it meant well, but it worries me. Especially when the person who wrote it is anonymous. The phrase is used too often and too lightly, especially on the internet. I don´t want to end up worrying if someone means it someday when they say something like that.

I didn´t mean to turn this into a sob-story and I really hope you understand. I love your reviews and comments, they make my day a thousand times better when I read them. Please keep them coming and please don´t refrain from telling me if you think that something needs changing or if something didn´t make sense. I will take any critisism into consideration - after all, how else am I going to get better as a writer?

I hope you like this, please tell me what you think.

* * *

**Chapter Ten:**

* * *

He felt the anger and hurt build up inside him. He had no control over it. Why had she decided that this wasn´t something he deserved to know? How could she have come to the conclusion that he would ever think that not knowing that there had been a baby was better than the alternative? How could it possibly help her case when he was kept thinking that she was still unable to conceive a child? This just proved it; Mary _could_ have children.

However much he wanted to rejoice over that particular fact, he still had the burning feeling inside of him that made him want to scream. He wanted to scream at Mary for not telling him about something so important as this.

He wasn´t exactly sure he still knew how to breathe when he stepped around Kenna and marched with fast and determined steps toward the door at the end of the corridor; the door that he knew was the only thing that now stood between him and getting the answers that he desperately needed. For just a split second he considered if it was rude to completely ignore his wife´s lady-in-waiting, but he quickly decided that he didn´t care. Part of the reason for this was the lack of respect Francis still held for the girl. It was hard to look at her and not see the things that she had done with his father.

He didn´t get more than a few meters before a page came running toward him. Breathlessly, the guard stopped and bowed before him.

"Pardon me, Your Grace, but the King has asked to see you at once," the poor man stuttered while trying to regain his composure.

Francis would not have hesitated to follow the page at any other time, but at this point, too many emotions were running through him to really care about whatever foolish scheme his mad father had invented now.

"Not now!" he snarled, trying to sidestep the page to get closer to the door to Mary´s chambers.

He was taken aback when the page cleared his throat and matched his movement to keep the prince from getting past him. He seemed to realize his mistake and started shivering nervously.

"I´m afraid I must insist, Your Grace. The King said that it was urgent," he spoke but the words somehow came out more like a whimper than anything else.

Francis wanted nothing more than to kick something right then. Of course his father would have come up with something and demanded his presence. Of course it would happen the moment when he needed the most for all responsibilities to go away; right when he needed to talk to his wife without any possible interruptions. Of course he was not allowed to have that.

Debating for a moment if he could defy his father´s wishes and get away with it, his gaze shifted back and forth between the uneasy page and the wooden door at the end of the corridor. He sighed deeply as he realized that he needed to know what his father wanted. He needed to know whatever crazy plan the king had made this time. Just one more time where his duty as future king would have to come before his duty as a husband. He grimaced at the thought but regained his composure quickly. The expression was gone just as soon as it had appeared on his face in the first place.

Thinking about it as he walked toward the room where the page told him his father was waiting, he kept thinking one thing. However much it annoyed him, it was probably best for both of them that he didn´t come to Mary´s chambers as angry as he was. He would only end up saying things that he didn´t mean in frustration. Besides, Mary would still be in her chambers when Henry had said what he wanted.

…

He found the king leaning on his hands on the large wooden table, starring intensely at different maps. Walking closer, Francis would make out the shape of the country he would someday rule pictured on the paper. On another map was pictured road markings and towns; the names of which were all English.

"Ah, Francis, there you are," Henry greeted, looking up from the maps. He smiled in a way that made Francis feel uneasy. He looked so proud of whatever decision that he had made.

"Father, what have you done?" he asked, his voice shaking more than he would like.

"God has spoken to me, son," Henry replied, a smile taking over his features. He looked up and paused for just a moment before continuing.

"The English are not going simply hand us the English crown. We need to take it for ourselves. We will attack from Scotland in the north and Calais in the south."

He supposed that he already knew what his father was planning before he even said it, but it still came as a shock. His father really had lost whatever sense was left in him. Going to war with England at that time would be pointless.

Henry, completely ignoring the way his son seemed to struggle to find the right words, continued unfazed.

"I can´t wait to see the look on Mary Tudor´s face as I take the crown."

Francis, finally coming to some sort of sense, finally spoke.

"Father, what have you done?" he repeated.

His voice shook slightly as he spoke, fearing for the answer. He had lost all faith that his father was able to make good decisions when it came to matters of state in France. He was no longer the cold but sensible king that Francis had watched and admired his entire childhood. Now he was simply cold.

"Men are moving north east to Calais as we speak."

Francis could hardly believe his own ears. Was it really too late? Was it too late to do anything to rectify this situation?

"Father, stop babbling. We don´t have the strength to take Calais. Our armies are spread too thin! If we lose and they take our forces they can stage an invasion and sweep down through France unopposed."

Francis was screaming and shaking with anger. Could his father really not see what this could do to France? Could he really not see the consequences his thoughtless actions could have?

"Francis, we can´t lose," Henry insisted.

"Yes, we can! We can and we will! Thousands will die!"

"You don´t understand. God spoke to me in a glorious dream. He said that I would claim victory at Calais."

Francis had to take a breath, trying desperately to calm himself down.

"Son, be happy with me!"

How? How was he supposed to celebrate? Was he supposed to simply accept that thousands of men would die because of a _dream_?

Francis didn´t know how to reply so he kept silent. His mind was reeling and a headache was coming fast.

…

His head was pounding, his body still shaking as he marched down the corridor headed for Mary´s chambers. His heart was beating fast against his chest and he couldn´t quite seem to calm himself down.

He stopped by her door, a hand raised to knock. Hesitating, his hand hovered as he tried to breath deeply. He couldn´t afford to push Mary even further away from him than he would by the end of the conversation that he would have with her. There was no way that she would forgive him anytime soon.

Sighing, he knocked once, twice, and waited. He heard the soft click of the lock and was greeted with the beautiful face of his wife and he longed to lean forward and press his lips to hers. He couldn´t help but be surprised when she smiled weakly at him and opened the door further for him to enter. He didn´t say anything as he walked past her.

When he reached the couch by the fireplace he turned to find her still by the door, her hand still frozen on the handle. She took a shaky breath and with graceful steps she walked back to the couch and picked up the embroidery she had been working on before he came.

It was silent between them. It could have been minutes or hours and neither of them could really say for sure. He stared at her as she worked, her hands moving at their own accord. She looked better. When he last saw her she had been moping around, depressed. He hadn´t known then that she had been mourning the loss of a child; a child that he had only just found out even existed in the first place.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Hey guys :D

Here is the eleventh chapter - it is nearly 1,500 words longer than the shortest chapter of this story so you´ve got yourself a treat :) I have an English exam tomorrow morning and a Math exam the day after so please, cross fingers for me :) The next few chapters might be slightly delayed as I have to spend the majority of my time preparing and studying for my exams. I will still try to upload on Sundays but don´t be too surprised if the chapter isn´t uploaded by Monday.

I was told that this story was moving a little slow. I am aware of that, however things will be moving a little bit faster after this. Once again, thank you so, so much for all the great reviews that you guys give me - you are the best! I will look forward to reading reviews after my exams tomorrow - if things don´t go the way I hope, I can let your reviews cheer me up :D

Anyways, I hope you like it :D

* * *

**Chapter Eleven:**

* * *

The silence dragged on, hanging heavy in the room. He wanted to say something, anything, to end the stillness but he didn´t know where to start. He decided then, that demanding why she hadn´t told him about their child would have to wait. He couldn´t very well yell at her for keeping something from him while he was keeping something even bigger from her. God, he hated all the secrets that had built up between them. It was like a wall, stacking higher and higher, keeping distance between them.

He cleared his throat in a week attempt to get her attention. He was thankful to find that her hands stilled around the embroidery, her frame tensed and slowly turned toward him. He couldn´t tell what it was that he saw in her eyes when she finally looked at him. Fear, maybe? Worry? Sadness?

It had always been easy for him to tell what she was thinking. Her body language and her eyes would usually give her away; betray the façade that she had created. Until now, it seemed. He realized then, that it wasn´t just now. She had successfully hidden many things from him and he hadn´t been able to tell before she, or someone else, confessed it to him. Did he not know his own wife anymore? He used to think that he was the one person who understood what she was going through because, for a long time, that was how he felt about her. Was that still true? When had their relationship gotten so bad that he was second-guessing everything he thought he knew?

She must have seen something in him; hesitation perhaps. She seemed to be moving in slow motion as she put the embroidery down and got up from the couch. The click of her shoes against the stone floor echoed in the large silent room as she took careful steps toward him.

She stopped just in front of him, her arms hanging limply by her side as she wasn´t sure what to do with them. Should she reach out and touch him? Should she keep a distance between them and await his words? There was something in his eyes, pain and sorrow, and perhaps out of pure reflex, her hand reached forward and grabbed onto his tightly in a feeble attempt to comfort him.

He didn´t pull his hand away and she looked up at his face, finally meeting his eyes. The blue orbs were swimming in tears, threatening to spill over. Her free hand landed softly on his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. He leaned into her touch for just a moment, closed his eyes and took a breath, willing himself to say the words that would make her hands drop from him.

"My father," his voice cracked and he cleared his throat before trying again.

"My father has decided to try and retake Calais."

Mary, knowing more would follow, kept quiet, for once patiently waiting. Francis´ eyes strayed from hers and dropped to her shoulder. He kept his eyes locked on the pattern of her dress, willing himself not to look up.

"I need to go with the men. My father would go, but I convinced him to let me go instead. He is not fit to lead an army." As he spoke, his voice dropped to a low whisper that only she would be able to hear even if others had been in the room with them. He felt her hands drop, perhaps from surprise, and he could instantly feel the absence of her hands in the coldness that followed.

Finally deciding that he needed to see her reaction, he looked up at her face. He watched as her slightly slacken jaw clenched and she blinked back tears. She licked her lips and wrung her hands together out of habit. He had watched her do it several times before. She did it when she was nervous or afraid.

He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her that he would be alright, but even if he could promise that, she still needed to hear the worst part.

"When are you leaving?" Mary finally mumbled, looking away from his face, anywhere else.

"Tomorrow. My father already sent out the first soldiers."

Mary nodded and the room was yet again silent except from the small sniffs that she couldn´t control. Why did Francis have to leave? Why couldn´t Henry just wake up and realize what he was doing? He was risking the life of his own son, his inheritor. Yes, Henry had other sons that would be named heir if something happened to Francis. France would go on even if Francis didn´t. What were the chances of them winning? England was strong, no war had strained on their forces and they didn´t have multiple borders to protect.

She felt a cold shiver run down her back. France had no chance of winning, did they?

She looked up at him, looking into his eyes.

"Your father said the French army wasn´t strong enough…" Mary finally stated. Was Francis taking on a suicide mission to save his father from ending up with the same fate as the men in the army?

"He is right. The soldiers are scattered all over France, keeping up the borders. We needed more men than my father had in his disposition-"

"Whose army did you-" she stopped herself once it dawned on her what the look of guilt in his eyes meant. She felt her own eyes grow as fury built up inside her. How could he do that? He knew how much was on line for her.

"You didn´t…"

Francis reached forward, desperate to touch her hand and explain to her that he had no other choice and that he did have Scotland in mind as well as France when he made the decision.

Mary shook her head and took a step back, out of range. As if to somehow make herself smaller and disappear out of the situation, she folded her arms across her chest.

"Mary, please, I had no other choice." He saw the way her eyebrows arched in disbelief. "My father is mad! He already sent out the men, I couldn´t just let them-"

"So you´re taking my uncle´s army, my army, my mother´s only hope. For what? To save French soldiers?" she cut him off. Her voice with dripping with anger and incredulity.

Francis took a breath, trying to calm himself down. Mary had every right to be furious with him.

"Mary, please understand," he begged, taking another step toward her. He tried to ignore the burn in his heart when she rejected him and took another step backwards.

"I _do_ understand," her voice was much calmer, but nothing in it or her face showed any sympathy. "You´re doing what is best for your country."

He felt anger built up inside him again. When was she going to realize that he would always think of Scotland as well? When was she going to realize that he knew that Scotland meant everything to her and that he would never risk its fall? When was she going to realize that he wasn´t just the Dauphin of France but also the King Consort of Scotland, _her_ Consort?

He wanted to scream at her but she kept speaking before he had the chance.

"Blood will be spilled because of the choices you have made; my mother´s blood." Tears were spilling from her eyes, slipping down her flushed cheeks, and she made no effort to stop them.

"You don´t know that," he said. There was still a chance. With Claude de Guise´s army they _could_ take Calais. They _could_ go to Scotland and free her mother once they returned. They could still save her mother. Without the army, the French soldiers that were already marching for Calais would surely fall. How did she not see that? "But the blood of thousands-"

"Yes, French blood, I know," she interrupted.

"I do not only think of France!" he finally screamed. For just a moment both were silent, their chests heaving and their breaths heavy.

Finally, Mary sniffed, wiped her eyes and licked her lips. She wrung her hands again, only stopping to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her voice was much lower when she finally spoke.

"No, you do not," she looked into his eyes, the anger in them slowly dulling. "But you do put her first, like any king would."

He felt hopeful, for just a moment that they could both calm down enough to actually talk. This was not the way he had hoped for the conversation to go, but he had known it was a possibility.

"Then can you forgive me?"

He tried to brace himself from the sting of rejection as he took a step toward her. She didn´t move, standing completely still but watching his every move. They were acting like strangers again. They were acting as if they didn´t trust each other.

Did they? Did they trust each other? Had he disappointed her and broken his promises too many times to still deserve her trust? Did he still trust her? Could he still trust that she was the same girl he fell in love with and that she meant it still when she made promises to him, even though she had broken them in the past?

Mary stayed silent, tears slipping from her eyes. She didn´t move when he reached her side and held her hand.

"Mary, listen to me. When we have taken Calais, I will go with your uncle´s army to Scotland. We can still save your mother."

She kept quiet for the longest time, soft whimpers and sniffs escaping her. Did he mean it? Could he honestly promise that he would return and that the army would still be able to go to Scotland? She knew the answer. No, he couldn´t. He couldn´t promise that he wouldn´t be injured or killed in the battle and he couldn´t promise that the English wouldn´t be prepared and that it wouldn´t be slaughter. He couldn´t promise that the army was still intact enough to make it through the travel to Scotland and the mission to save her mother. It was empty promises; ones that he made to comfort her.

"I´m only going to ask two things of you." She wiped the tears from her cheeks and reached for his hand, clinging to it for dear life.

"The first, is that you stop making me promises, you know in your heart, you can´t keep."

He wanted to protest. He wanted to say that he never had and that he never would. He wanted to tell her that he meant every single promise that he made, but he knew that it would be a lie. He had made several promises to her before because he knew it was what she needed to hear. He had made promises that he couldn´t keep because he didn´t yet have the power to do so.

The reason they were even fighting in the first place was because he promised her soldiers, helped her achieve them even, only to rip them from her grasp again. Even though he knew that he had no other choice, he still understood Mary´s pain and anger.

Without making a comment about it, he nodded. "And the other?"

She finally looked at him and new tears took the place of the ones she had wiped away.

"Come back to me? Live through this battle and don´t let England cost me you."

England had taken too much from her already. They had taken her childhood in Scotland. They had threatened her life and sent her to a convent. They had killed thousands of her countrymen. They had taken her freedom from her, they threatened Scotland every day. She could not lose Francis to them too. He was the one person that she could not handle losing. She needed him to come back. She needed him to say the words. She needed him to promise, even though he might not be able to keep it. She needed him to fight so that he would come back to her.

She wanted to be selfish and tell him not to go. She wanted to beg him to stay with her, but even she knew in her heart that she could never do that.

He pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to her hair as she cried into his shirt. He held her close, whispering nothings into her ear as she sobbed, her hands gripping tightly around his shirt.

…

At some point – it may have been hours or minutes – she eventually calmed down. Her breathing stabilized and Francis realized as he helped her sit on the ottoman that he could wait no longer. He needed to know the truth.

"Why did you never tell me about the miscarriage?"

He pulled back, only enough to search her face for a reaction. Her head fell as she tried to hide her face from him in shame. She had known it was coming. She had known that he would find out. She knew that she should have been the one to tell him. She knew that he deserved better than to be told through a slip-up in the hallway. Kenna had come running earlier that night. She had apologized several times before she even explained why. Mary knew that she probably shouldn´t have been as mad about it as she was. It was irrational. Of course Kenna would assume that Francis knew. It was only logical that Mary would have told him. Except, she didn't.

He placed his hands on either side of her face and gently lifted it to force her to look at him.

"I don´t know," she finally admitted. That was a lie. They both knew it. The real reason seemed so foolish now that she was ashamed to even say it.

"I was scared."

Francis sighed and pulled her into his arms again. He could never really understand what she had been going through but he couldn´t blame her for acting the way that she did. Yes, he had hoped that she would have told him as soon as it happened, but in the end, it didn´t matter. It was in the past.

"Please don´t keep something like that from me again," he mumbled into her hair.

"Okay."

...

He leaned back and looked at her for a moment before he pressed his lips to hers. He had missed the feeling of her soft lips against his own and he wanted to stay there, with her in his arms, forever.

His hands fumbled slightly as he worked on the string of her corset. He pulled away for just a second as if to search for permission. He felt like he had the first time they were together. He had been so careful. He didn´t want to overstep any boundaries and he wanted to give her a chance to turn back in case she changed her mind.

He found her smiling slightly at him and she leaned forward to kiss him again. His hands returned to her corset strings.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Hey Guys

Okay, so I know that I deserve a shitstorm coming from you after leaving you hanging for a week *ducks* I should have uploaded this a week ago but I was busy and then procrastinating and trying to deal with a major writer´s block and well...the list goes on.

Since today is my 20th birthday, I decided to pull myself together and finally update as a birthday present to you guys (yeah, that sounded weird in my head too - just go with it)

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this :D

* * *

**Chapter Twelve:**

* * *

The sky was completely grey, the sun hiding behind the endless clouds. The windy and chilly weather seemed to match how she was feeling. She wanted to scoff and roll her eyes at the ironic situation, but she refrained. Her eyes were locked on only one thing; Francis, riding his horse at the front of the long line of men as they rode off to Calais. He was saying something to her uncle, who was riding beside him. He was far enough away that she had to squint with her eyes to be able to see him, but close enough that she could see the anxiety in his face when he finally turned to see her. This was the last time she would see him, in months at the very least, and she wanted to remember every little thing about him. What if he never came back? What if this was the last time she would see him at all? What if-

She had been so focused on Francis that she hadn´t been listening to whatever her ladies were saying. They were probably telling her all sorts of things they could think of that would comfort her. "Francis is strong, he will be fine", "He will come back to you soon, you´ll see" and more. What else could they say? The only other person, who would understand, even if it was just partially, what she was feeling, was Greer. Mary didn´t know Leith, the kitchen boy who seemed to have captured her heart. She had only met him a few times when she had gone to the kitchens to get a snack when it was easier for herself to do it than to ask for a servant to do it. He was out there with Francis somewhere, wasn´t he? She couldn´t be completely sure, she had been so focused on her own life that she hadn´t worried much about her ladies. What a friend she was.

Even though she hadn´t really been listening to them, and even though she knew they had all the best intensions, she didn´t really feel like hearing any more of their comforting words. The only person who would be able to comfort her was Francis. How was she going to manage for months without him? How could she ever have thought that she could go on living her life without him in it? He was too important to her. She couldn´t lose him. Even the thought of it made a cold shiver travel up her spine.

"Do you mind leaving? I would rather be alone for a little while."

Her voice was barely louder than a whisper, but both of her friends clearly heard her. For just a moment they stopped to stare at her as if they were contemplating her sanity. They hesitated before nodding. She didn´t turn to look at them as they exited her rooms. Her eyes were locked on the horizon where she could no longer see Francis or any of the men of the army. They were gone. She had never felt more alone than in that moment.

…

Kenna was not entirely sure whether Mary was still angry with her. She didn´t know if she was being foolish for showing up at her door, begging for forgiveness. Then again, what other choice did she have? She was not willing to take a risk. Her friendship with Mary was one of the most important things to her, not only political wise, but also personal wise. She may not have grown up with Mary, having missed the years her queen spent at the convent, but she was still her best friend. They had been through too much together to let something like this come between them. That wasn´t to say that what she did was a little thing. It was not. Kenna deserved her anger; every little bit of it.

She tentatively raised her hand and knocked softly on the wooden door. She waited for an answer, unconsciously holding her breath, but heard nothing. She should probably have taken it as a hint that Mary was in no mood for company, but she still raised her hand to knock again. When, for the second time, she didn´t receive an answer, she got worried. Mary had to still be in there, right? The guards outside her chambers hadn´t told her that she had left, and they would have, right?

She cautiously opened the door and looked around. The sight confused her. Mary was nowhere in sight. The bed was still made from that morning, unslept in. The fire in the fireplace had burned down to embers. The room was considerably colder than when she had been in there earlier. Where could she have gone?

That was when she noticed the open door to the balcony. If she strained her ears she could hear sniffling.

"Mary?"

Kenna took a few steps forward, rounding a pillar, and finally saw her. Mary was standing in the exact same spot where they had left her. The young queen didn´t turn at the sound of her voice, but she did startle a little when she realized that she was no longer alone.

"Mary, what are you doing here?" she asks, stepping forward. She flinched back the moment their skin touched. She was ice cold.

"Mary, you´re freezing! Let´s get you inside." Kenna felt like she was talking to a small child and sighed of relief when Mary didn´t act like her usual self and didn´t object.

Kenna reached forward and put an arm around Mary´s cold shoulders. As she guided her inside, Kenna realized that she was the only thing keeping Mary from falling to the floor. The girl was leaning all her weight onto her and Kenna worried that Mary would pass out any moment.

It couldn´t have looked very graceful when she helped Mary sit on the bed. She looked up at her, searching her eyes but found them glazed over and unmoving. It was only now that she had gotten inside that her teeth started chattering violently.

Kenna knew that there was no point in asking for permission to change the queen´s clothes. She was not likely to get an answer anyway.

She tried to work as carefully as possible, not wanting to move too fast for the girl´s frozen limps to follow. The clothes were damp all the way through and Kenna wondered that Mary would get sick. She was slowly turning into an icicle out there. How could she not have noticed she was freezing?

As soon as Kenna had gotten her into a new, warmer nightgown, Mary was guided to lie under the covers of the bed. Kenna had never seen her look more fragile than in that moment. Silent tears were running down her face and her teeth were still chattering, though not as violently.

Kenna decided, as she stood there looking at her queen, that Mary should be allowed to rest without interruption, at least until the color in her cheeks returned.

She made a move to leave for the door when Mary´s cold hand reached out and grabbed her own. The grip was no tighter than she was still able to pull her hand away with ease if she wanted to. She stayed were she was and turned to look at Mary again.

"Stay, please?" Mary begged with wide eyes, her voice weak and barely above a whisper. She visibly relaxed when Kenna nodded.

"I´ll just tell the guards not to disturb you, alright?" Mary didn´t reply or nod but her hand dropped to the bed again.

With quick steps, Kenna crossed the room to the door. She was gone for no more than a minute as she told the guards that the Scottish queen was feeling unwell and should be allowed to rest and asked for them to send for a servant to restock the fireplace. When she returned to the bed, she hesitated for a moment. Deciding that sitting on the bed beside her was out of the question, she reached for a chair and less gracefully lifted it to the bedside. At any other time she would have probably sat on the bed, but she reminded herself that Mary might still be angry with her.

As soon as she sat, Mary´s hand reached for hers again and they stayed like that, holding hands, for a while. Neither of them said a word. The only sound in the room came from the fireplace where the embers crackled once in a while. They were disturbed by a servant who apologized and curtseyed before restocking logs into the fireplace. Once she was the satisfied and the room was slowly heating up a bit, she curtseyed again and left.

The door had barely closed after her when Mary finally spoke.

"I´m sorry I overreacted yesterday," she mumbled. Kenna looked up, surprised. "I should have told him sooner. It wasn´t your fault." Silent tears traveled down her red cheeks and hit the pillow.

"Oh Mary." Kenna didn´t know what to say. She felt a heavy weight lift from her shoulder as she realized that Mary was no longer angry with her. She reached out and enveloped Mary in a hug, the latter clinging to her.

…

Once they pulled back, neither knowing exactly who made the first move to part, Kenna couldn´t help but smile slightly. They must have looked like a mess. Both were crying, Kenna wasn´t sure when or why she started in the first place. Mary´s cheeks were flushed with color and her eyes were puffy from all the crying.

Mary couldn´t help but smile in return.

"I have been so busy that I never once asked you," she started. "How are you doing?"

Kenna kept the smile on her face as she replied.

"I´m fine Mary. I understand. You have had so much to worry about."

Mary shook her head. Just because she had been busy with her duties as a queen and wife, which was an understatement, really, didn´t justify that she had completely ignored her duty as a friend.

"No it is not alright. As your friend, I should have worried more about how you were doing. I should have worried how you were dealing with your marriage to Bash…"

Mary was a little surprised by the indifference in her voice as she said the name of the man that she was once engaged to. That time seemed like a lifetime ago. Too many things had happened since then and she suddenly felt guilty that the last conversation she had with him was one right after he was forcibly wed to his father´s former mistress.

Both girls remained silent for a while. Kenna didn´t know what to say. The whole situation seemed surreal to her, still. Had anyone told her a year earlier that they would be where they were; she would have probably laughed at them and told them that they were being foolish.

"How is he?" Mary finally asked, her voice weaker than she liked. She cleared her throat but kept silent, waiting for Kenna´s response.

"He is…he is well, I suppose. He keeps thinking that it´s his job to save the world. He is foolishly stubborn that way. Just like someone else I know." Kenna smiled a little which in turn made a small smile appear on Mary´s face as well.

"He misses you, you know," Kenna admitted after forever. She knew that the relationship between her husband and her friend was much more complex than she could even begin to imagine. She knew that, even though Bash told her time and time again that he loved her; a small part of his heart, however small that part might be, belonged to Mary. She would always be special to him, but Kenna found herself hoping that he could find it in him to let her go in time. She didn´t want to be selfish like she used to be. She didn´t want to turn the situation around to make it all about her as she had done countless times before. She wanted, and tried desperately to, to understand how difficult it was for Bash to see Mary with his brother every day.

"I miss him too." Mary smiled slightly, gripping a little tighter around Kenna´s hand.

"I wish we could go back to being friends again, but I don´t think we ever can…" she admitted.

"I wish I could go back and change a lot of things, but I cannot ever take it back. I wish Nostradamus never told me of his visions. I wish Aylee and Lola were still here. I wish I never left with Bash. I wish I never sent Francis away. I wish…" she stopped for a moment and bit her lower lip.

"I wish I never led Bash on the way I did. He didn´t deserve that. He deserved better than to be treated like a second choice." Her thumb stroked the soft skin of Kenna´s hand and she looked into her friend´s eyes as she smiled slightly. "I´m glad he has you now."


End file.
